Strawberries, Chocolate & Bittersweet Things
by NicoleMuenchSeidel
Summary: Librarian Belle French does a favor for her friend Jefferson, substituting as bartender one night at The Rabbit's Hole. Her encounter with Mr. Gold, who is brooding over a dilemma, alters both their fates forever...for the better. This is a T Plus non-FTL AU romance, no curse. Belle is 100% all natural, sweet and spunky Belle...with no Lacey fillers, byproducts or aftertaste. ;-)
1. Intangible Yearning

******Author's Note: ****This is written with great respect, love and gratitude for the talents of Robert Carlyle, Emilie de Ravin, all those involved in Once Upon A Time.** I do not own these characters, nor do I own the songs mentioned in this story.  


**Rated T, but may have some T+ moments in later chapters with GoldenBelle getting romantic, and possibly when talking about Gold's dark past. There is no curse in this story. It's just Belle and Gold getting to know each other and events happening from there. BTW, Jefferson will be introduced in chapter 2, this is a GoldenBelle only chapter.  
**

* * *

Chapter 1 "Intangible Yearning"

* * *

One early autumn evening, Belle French's day takes an unexpected turn. The town librarian and animal shelter volunteer has been looking forward to a nice, quiet Friday night at home reading, until her friend Jefferson calls her and begs her to come to The Rabbit's Hole, where he works. Upon arriving at 8:15, he informs her that his babysitter had called, telling him that his daughter, Grace, has a 102 degree fever. He pleads that he desperately needs her to fill in as bartender until closing. He mutters under his breath that most of the wait staff is out sick as well. There is no one who can fill in, and he fears losing his job if he must close the bar on a Friday night.

Belle feels utterly ambivalent. Of course, she wants to help her friend, yet she hates the smell of alcohol and doesn't relish being around a crowd of drunken men all night. Chewing her bottom lip, she worries that she doesn't know how to mix most of the drinks on the menu. She would be completely out of her element, and yet she doesn't feel as though she can let her friend down in such a serious situation...not when her God Daughter is sick. The only silver lining is seeing Mr. Gold at the end of the bar.

She thinks to herself, _"Most assuredly, as long as he's around, nobody will try anything too frisky with me."_ Uneasily, she agrees and says a silent prayer that she will figure out how to survive what promises to be a chaotic night. Taking a deep breath, she thinks, _"Less than six hours until closing...how bad can it be?"_ She groans, realizing that she doesn't want an answer to that question.

* * *

Mr. Reimund Gold is a wealthy attorney and business man, with a well earned reputation for being unpleasant if crossed. Though his childhood had been tough, it still had its saving graces. However, what he saw at the age of nineteen forever changed him. In the more than three decades that have followed, he has emotionally closed himself off from the world, only putting on the mask of pleasantness when he needed for the occasional business opportunity. It has made for a lonely existence, seemingly never being his true self. There is an intangible yearning in his heart. The yearning is like the ghost of something, seemingly forever out of his reach. Only a handful of people know the true Reimund, a few of people he's known since he was a wee boy in Scotland, and the one person who should be with him at home, yet is unavailable to him until tomorrow.

Though he typically avoids crowds, the clamor of people in the bar is a small respite from his loneliness, despite the fact that he has no plans to speak with anyone and knows nobody who would want to talk to him. Sitting at the bar brooding over his troubles, notices the bartender, Jefferson, leave as the town's exquisite librarian takes his place behind the bar. This turn of events is a nice distraction from his overwhelming dilemma. With part of her hair pulled back in a barrette, while the remainder of her long dark chestnut mane flows in soft curls, accentuating her stunning blue eyes and doll-like facial features, her fair skin that seems to color with hints of rose when she blushes. Her current blushing reveals to his observing eyes that she is uneasy with the current situation. She wears a fitted black and red velvet jacket with a feminine ruffle at the bottom, a bright white blouse with small gray polka dots with large cuffs folded over the black sleeves of the jacket and charcoal gray skirt, making her look nothing short of absolutely adorable in Reimund Gold's eyes.

* * *

Belle makes a beeline for him, with the full intent of keeping him happy and hopefully staying as long as possible. With a broad smile and a lilt in her Australian accent, she says, "Good evening, Mr. Gold. Is there anything I can get you?"

With a pleasant, yet not overt expression, he replies, "I'd like a Pink Squirrel, if I may."

Normally, hearing a Scottish brogue rumble with rolling R's would give Belle's heart a nice flutter, but not now. A look of mild panic claims her expression, as she thinks, _"Great! The first drink order, and I have no clue!"_ Nervously she says, "Excellent choice. I'll get right on that."

She pulls out her smart phone and begins to search for the recipe. As she does, Mr. Gold clears his throat sternly, and says, "Miss French, a moment, if you please."

She sheepishly walks back to Mr. Gold, "Yes?"

He raises his eyebrow and says in an accusatory tone, "You don't know how to make a Pink Squirrel, do you?"

Caught red handed and very red faced, yet not about to lie, she answers, "No.", and bites her lip.

Just as she is about to apologize and assure him that she will figure it out, he gives her a crooked smile, thoroughly enjoying her blush, and says, "Good" and then crinkling his nose as his eyes sparkle with with mischief, "Because I didn't actually want one.", while thinking, _"Well, this is fun."_

She gapes at him as her brow furrows mildly, and a tone of confusion claims her voice, "But why would you order it?"

Shrugging, Mr. Gold replies with a knowing expression, "I was testing a theory."

Leaning towards him on the bar, with a voice laced with intrigue, she asks "What _kind_ of theory?"

Speaking matter-of-factly, he declares, "That this is not your sort of establishment, yet for some strange reason, you're bartending. Something is _amiss_, my dear, Miss French."

Leaning in closer, to keep their conversation private, she confesses, "No, I don't like bars, but Jefferson's daughter has a fever. And...as long as I'm coming clean, I was hoping...I mean, I know you're incredibly busy, but if you're not _too_ busy tonight, I was wondering if you might stick around until closing. It's just that...that..."

"You don't want to be left alone with a bar full of hormonal fraternity boys and middle aged men looking at you as the answer to their midlife crisis.", he supplies.

She is stunned at his insight, saying "Why yes, that's _exactly_ it. So could you...would you?"

The idea of going home to his empty house holds no appeal. Tomorrow, he will have company there, _the best kind_, but he will soon need to have some answers to keep his life from being ripped apart. Perhaps this little distraction is just what he needs to recharge and figure out how to keep that which he cherishes most.

A crooked sly dog grin spreads across his lips, "I'll do you one better. I'll help you figure out how to make any mixed drink someone orders."

Looking at him as though the Angel Gabriel just appeared in front of her, she questions "You know how to do that? Why would you do that?"

"I bartended my way through university, and it's a good distraction from what's plaguing my mind at the moment."

Without thinking she excitedly grabs his hand and exclaims, "Oh thank God! You have my undying gratitude for this!"

Her beaming smile makes his mouth go dry, as he rasps out, "No matter, dearie."

* * *

The night goes surprisingly smoothly with Mr. Gold's help. In order to be certain to be helpful, he drinks mainly sparkling water, as he had finished his Scotch shortly after Belle arrived. Belle handles the various customers quite well. There is a bachelorette party that is the rowdiest of the crowd...a couple college boys dare to pinch Belle, when she delivers drinks to their table, while their waitress is busy. She handles the groping with grace and a causal mention of how interesting it is that Mr. Gold is in the bar. Upon hearing that, the hormonal Neanderthals spare a frightened glance at him...to which he gives a death glare and a wave. The previously mentioned middle aged men rarely dare more than a passing glance at Belle's shapely legs, after witnessing the unspoken interaction between Mr. Gold and the college boys.

Belle supposes that Gold himself would _technically_ be considered middle aged, perhaps near fifty, but she doesn't think of him that way. At thirty-two years old, Belle is hardly a youngster, and for all his icy reputation around town, he had always been pleasant to her. Indeed, when she allows herself to think about it, his rich Scottish accent, warm brown eyes and silky shoulder length brown hair with touches of gray give her a special warm feeling. Additionally, he always looks incredibly dashing in his dark three piece suits and jewel toned shirts and ties.

* * *

Around ten minutes past ten o'clock, Belle's stomach growls loudly, and she reaches for the peanut bowl to satisfy her hunger. Before she is able to retrieve any peanuts, a warm hand gently, yet firmly grabs her wrist, and she hears Mr. Gold's voice say sternly, "Don't eat those!" She looks at him in confusion, and he asks rhetorically, "How much do you think inebriated men wash their hands after using the restroom?"

Her face contorts in disgust as she exclaims, "You mean?!"

Serious, yet strangely amused by her reaction, he instructs, "No peanuts...", then gesturing towards another bowl, "...nor mints for you, unless you want to be intimately acquainted with the men here."

The imagery causes Belle to lose her appetite. Just as she is about to take an order from another customer, Mr. Gold stops her. "I'd like to order a meal."

Uneasily, she replies, "I think the cook started shutting things down at ten o'clock."

With a bit of ice in his voice, he says, "Tell the cook, it's for me. I'm sure he'll see his way clear to bending his time table _a wee bit_."

Feeling certain that he is correct, Belle asks, "What would you like?"

"Fries, a hamburger and a fried shrimp basket…oh and when you return, I'll show you how to make a Virgin Chocolate Covered Strawberry Daiquiri." She gives him an odd look upon hearing his drink choice, and then dashes to the kitchen to deliver the food order, _ultimatum_.

She has to admit that she rather enjoys him instructing her on preparing the daiquiri. She gets some dark bittersweet chocolate on her fingers. She has to remind herself to wash it off after the drink is complete, for if she were at home, she'd lick the chocolate off. She smiles as he insists on extra strawberry slices and whipped cream. Before putting her hands under the faucet, she dares a quick taste of the heavenly dark chocolate syrup on her fingers. Belle notices a strangely smug expression on Mr. Gold's face as he witnesses her momentary indulgence. Washing and drying her hands, she places the completed drink in front of him. He smiles at her proudly, yet makes no attempt to drink the daiquiri. Instead, he drinks his sparkling water. Assuming that he is waiting to drink it with his meal, she goes back to the kitchen to check the cook's progress.

When she returns with his meal, he gives her a self-satisfied smile and says, "Splendid! Now eat."

"Excuse me?"

Wryly he says, "You almost ate germ ridden peanuts. Admit it, you're hungry...now eat."

Though incredibly moved by his interest in her well-being, she protests, "It's still busy here. I can't just stop.", and then with a bit of mischief, she adds, "Besides, how do you know I'm not allergic to strawberries?"

He replies, "I saw you practically salivate at the sight of the strawberries, when those women ordered their frou-frou Rosé Sangrias...and I pegged you as a woman who fancies chocolate."

Belle marvels at his observation. She then realizes that everything Mr. Gold ordered had caught her attention, as it was served earlier to customers. Pragmatically, she says, "I'm not eating all this by myself...you've been here all this time and haven't eaten either. You have to eat some too."

Though he is amused and touched by her concern, his ornery streak emerges, and with a smirk, he retorts, "Perhaps _I'm_ allergic."

Without missing a beat, folding her arms in front of her, Belle says smugly, "Perhaps you are...where's your EpiPen?"

"_Well played,"_ he thinks and then says, "I left it in my other jacket."

"Oh _really_? You ordered food that could _kill_ you...but don't have your EpiPen?"

With false irritation, he grumbles, "I never said it would _kill_ me...perhaps I'd just blow up like a balloon."

Leaning in close, examining his face, she says coyly, "I think I'm going to need a ruler."

Incredulously, he asks, "What on Earth for?"

Her blue eyes seem to burn through him as she says, "To measure how big your nose is growing, _Pinocchio_."

No one in town challenges him like this, and he finds that he is relishing the experience. Begrudgingly he admits, "Very well, I'm not allergic, but you can't force me to eat this food that I ordered _for you_."

Feigning submissiveness, she says, "You're right. I can't make you eat.", and then she pours some ketchup at the side of the fried ship basket and dips a shrimp in the condiment. She raises the shrimp towards his mouth and says, "You might want to eat this before the ketchup drips on your nice suit...", and then with a smug grin she purrs, "...but the choice is yours.", as she cannot believe how brazen she's being.

He notices that several people in the establishment are watching this exchange with rapt attention. It's a nice stroke to his ego to think that they are witnessing the most beautiful woman in town preparing to feed him. He obediently opens his mouth, grabbing the shrimp, while his lips momentarily make contact with her fingers, as his eyes are locked on hers. Not one to be out done, he scoops up another shrimp with some ketchup and says, "Your turn, dearie."

Belle blushes like mad as he puts the shrimp in her mouth. She is not typically someone to participate in public displays, yet she is honestly enthralled..._and quite hungry_.

Taking a knife in hand, Belle begins to cut the hamburger in half, saying, "Now that we're even, will you eat your half, or do I need to feed this to you as well?"

Taking his half in hand, he says, "As you wish...I'm nothing if not reasonable.", and then takes a ravenous bite. Belle rolls her eyes, as she begins to eat her half.

He smirks, "So I was right about you and your penchant for chocolate."

Raising an eyebrow, she corrects, "_Dark_ chocolate."

With a tone dripping with sultry sarcasm, "Of course, is there any other kind?"

Tilting her head gazing into his brown eyes, that are eerily reminiscent of the desert topping at hand, she thinks, _"Was he always this attractive? What! Okay, Belle, don't get in over your head."_ She then says insightfully, "With food as with life, bittersweet things add depth to the experience."

Her mind intrigues him, and he feels as though he might drown in the blue depths gazing upon him. Wondering how he had not to fully appreciated the captivating Belle French before this night, and trying to get his bearings, for tonight is all he can have, he quips, "And here we all thought our town librarian was pure sweetness."

Leaning towards him, she says with a mildly sardonic edge, "Show me a woman over thirty who's never experienced bitterness, and I'll show you a woman who hasn't lived."

"Touché," he concedes.

She nods, taking another bite of her hamburger.

A couple minutes later, the waitress interrupts announcing that the bachelorette party has ordered another round.

"Duty calls.", says Belle, who is still eating her hamburger.

Mr. Gold shakes his head, "No, you come around here and sit. I can take care of the drink order. I've had my fill.", as he has already eaten his half of the hamburger.

Walking around the bar to his stool, she takes his seat. The moment she sits, it occurs to her just how blisteringly sore her feet are. If she would have known she would be on her feet all night, she would have changed out of her sky high heels. Though they make her taller, she knows the height difference will not be worth the pain that she will endure tomorrow. Taking an eager bite of her hamburger, she notices a man staring at her as though she were the weak gazelle separated from the herd. She steels herself to give him the brush off.

Mr. Gold approaches a man, who seems far too attentive to Belle, and says, "If you're thinking of bothering Miss French, I _advise_ you to reconsider." Belle notices the man shrink away, and she is more than pleased that she asked Mr. Gold to stay. Indeed, she doesn't know when she last enjoyed herself this much, and she knows that it's not the random clientele of The Rabbit's Hole, who are responsible for her high spirits.

As Mr. Gold prepares the ten drinks ordered by the already intoxicated bachelorette party, he watches Belle pop a shrimp into her mouth. He thinks back to his days bartending his way through university. Being a bartender was the perfect job for chatting up beautiful women, however he was far too focused on his studies to do so, even keeping his books open and ready behind the bar. Now, if it weren't for more pressing issues, he would give his all chatting up Belle French, likely making an arse out of himself in the process; and not caring one wit. However, he cannot afford the distraction of wooing a woman, even one who makes his heart race. There's too much to lose...and he can't lose, not this time.

An odd notion dances through is mind, _"How would she react if I offered her a deal to help me with my problem?" _He watches her sip her daiquiri, then close her eyes seeming to experience bliss after she eats a whipped cream covered strawberry slice. He decides not to taint the moment by looking to her to be some sort of solution to his problem. He knows there's only tonight to connect with the bewitching librarian turned impromptu bartender. Tomorrow, all his focus must be elsewhere.

* * *

Belle watches as he arranges the drinks on the tray. She never would have guessed that there is this whole other side to Mr. Gold, the man with whom she had only had passing moments until tonight. Seeing that the waitress is occupied with other patrons, Mr. Gold decides to take the drinks over to the bachelorette party himself. After all, it might be fun to startle a pack of overly inebriated strumpets. Perhaps he shouldn't judge them, but no one in town has ever done him the courtesy of a kind thought, thus why should he?...especially, since the shoe appears to fit. Yes, the sight of him will curtail their merriment for a while, though he knows the alcohol will win the fight. It'll be fun to unnerve them a bit.

Belle watches him take the tray over and place each drink meticulously in front of its proper owner. They all seemed to have suddenly sobered up in his presence; all except one. As Belle sips her daiquiri through a straw, she watches Mr. Gold turn to leave as the bride-to-be's hand cups his rump. The table of women erupts in squeals of laughter, Belle blows into the straw instead of sucking, and the daiquiri bubbles and splatters on the bar. Clapping a hand over her mouth, and using the other to wipe the bar, she knows she shouldn't laugh. It was not funny when she got pinched, yet she feels a growing urge to giggle.

He returns saying sternly, "I hope you savored the show, dearie. That's the last round of drinks I take over to the barracudas."

Trying to maintain her composure, she responds, "Are you sure?...you might get a good tip."

"That may well be, but they're certainly not getting _mine_."

Both Belle and Mr. Gold look at each other with eyes wide with shock at his vulgar innuendo. His tongue feels like it has adhered to his teeth, as he wonders what the town librarian must think of him. _"What in the Hell has gotten into me, talking like that?!"_ Belle's face is red and her eyes are watering, as he braces himself to be lambasted. His wait ends as Belle begins to sputter and giggle wildly, causing him to let out a guffaw at his verbal slip, as well as the relief that she is not angry at him.

* * *

By 2:00AM, Belle has made a few hundred dollars in tips over the night, including Mr. Gold's tip from his enthusiastic admirer at the bachelorette party. Belle can't help but wonder if the bride-to-be will remember the spectacle she put on. If any of her friends are capable of remembering, most assuredly they will be more than happy to remind her. Belle is relieved that they took a limo, since there was not one of them that was sober enough to drive. As Belle is closing up, and Mr. Gold eyes her from the bar, noticing her getting ready to put her tips in Jefferson's box.

"Wait! You worked yourself to the bone all night, and your _friend_ expects you to give him your tips?!", he says with disgust.

"Oh, no...Jefferson told me to keep the tips. But he's a single father...and well, I only have myself to provide for."

He is dumbfounded by her, "You're an extraordinary woman, Miss French."

"Call me Belle, please."

Steepling his hands in front of him, he says, "Okay, _Belle_...I suppose I should give some reciprocity. You may call me, Reimund."

She smiles warmly at being honored with his first name, "Mmm...I like that name. Now that we are on a first name basis, and we survived Friday night at The Rabbit's Hole...how about you tell me what it was that was 'plaguing' your mind tonight. Maybe I can help."

He says with a barely perceivable hint of bitterness, "Only if you're willing to marry me."

She chuckles, "That's the third marriage proposal I got tonight." Noticing something serious in his eyes, she then says hesitantly, "That...wasn't a joke, was it?"

Rubbing his forehead, he says, "It's as serious as a heart attack. I have to get married soon, or my life will be ruined. But I'm not asking you to take on my burden."

Her brow furrows, she asks, "Is it an immigration thing?"

"No, dearie...I mean _Belle, _I've been a full citizen for years. No, I'm trying to find a way to keep my son."

Confused as she's not sure she's ever heard that he has a son...indeed, not much is known about his ex-wife either, "I don't understand. Didn't you and your ex-wife work out some sort of custody arrangement?"

He nods in the affirmative, "Aye...but she lives to torture me. She knows that Bae is all that I truly cherish...so she's fighting for full custody, _just to screw me over._ She doesn't even spend time with Bae, when he's with her...he's always with a nanny or at some random friend's house. Bae is with her now...or rather whomever she left him with. I'll have him back tomorrow, but for how long is the looming question. If I get married and demonstrate that I have a stable household, that _might_ help. As it is, she's about to marry the _cur_ she left me for."

With a bit of righteous indignation rising within her, she blurts out, "What?! The tramp cheats on you, then has the nerve to try to take your son away!", and then suddenly, clamps her hand over her mouth.

Reimund has to keep from spitting out his drink in laughter. After the danger passes, he coughs and says, "Belle, for such a sweet little librarian, you have quite the unexpected fiery mouth."

The combination of her ire at his wife and her embarrassing outburst have her face seemingly to be heated by flames, "I'm_ so_ sorry! That was very inappropriate of me...I was just so mad."

Trying to ignore how the blush of her skin makes her iolite blue eyes more vibrant, with a tone of confusion, he asks, "Why? Why should my family drama matter to you?"

Earnestly she says, "Well, because I think you're a good man..." He raises an eyebrow in protest, and she reaffirms, "...I believe you're a good man, and I don't like someone just trying to torment you...especially when there's a child at stake."

He looks at her with blatant awe...words tumbling from his lips, "Belle, will you..."

She reaches over and puts her hand on his mouth to prevent him from finishing the question. He blushes at his own stupidity for having the audacity to think, for a fraction of a second, that this beautiful, lovely, kind woman would want to marry _him_.

Belle feels something like a rush of insanity or the pull of fate...she is not sure which, but before he can move away, she grabs his tie, holding him in place. The surprise is clear on his face.

Swallowing hard and blinking her eyes in a flood of some emotion that she cannot name, she says, "You don't propose in a bar...after drinking, no less, and expect that will help with creating a stable household. How about I come by your house tomorrow...possibly meet Bae, and we can discuss it more then?"

His detail oriented mind wishes to point out that he hasn't had any alcohol since he finished his Scotch shortly after her arrival, but his emotions seem to be ruling the moment as he asks, "Belle, are you saying that you actually would?"

"I'm saying '_maybe_ I would'...let's sleep on it tonight and see whether our fates align tomorrow.", and then moving her hand from his tie, to his hand on the bar, she warmly squeezes his trembling hand and asks, "Deal?"

Breathlessly he gazes at her and whispers, "Deal."

* * *

**Author's Note: Oh my, Gold's bottom got groped!...and he almost proposed! That's a full night. So what do you think of this new fic? ****A while ago, when I was ****intending on updating one of my existing fics, some crazed ****plot bunnies jumped me, and I wrote half this chapter, though it didn't fit any of my other stories. I've since been mapping out a plot for this. It will be the most AU of my stories so far. P********************lease review...guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.**  



	2. Past in the Present

******Author's Note: ****This is written with great respect, love and gratitude for the talents of Robert Carlyle, Emilie de Ravin, all those involved in Once Upon A Time.** I do not own these characters, nor do I own the songs mentioned in this story.

**Thank you everybody for your great reviews and feedback. I'm really blown away by your response. It also appears there is resounding agreement on the Gold groping. LOL! Go fangirls! ;-) Just a heads up, this was a pretty fast update for me, because most of this chapter was done when I posted the first. So future updates will likely be slower, but this fic will indeed continue.  
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**FYI, for frame of reference, Robin Hood inspired characters in any of my fics are based on the original OUAT Robin Hood from the "Lacey" episode as my inspiration for what he looks like. I had to pick one...and the first one appealed more to me.  
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**Enjoy!**

* * *

After making their deal to meet the next day and see where the fates lead them, Reimund and Belle exchange phone numbers, and tidy up a few things at The Rabbit's Hole. Belle picks up the mint and peanut bowls, using a napkin to hold them, her nose crinkling in disgust as she disposes of the contents. She will never be able to _un-know_ what he had told her.

He chuckles inwardly at her reaction as he thinks, _"Damn, even her disgusted face is adorable."_, and he stares for a moment, _"Is she seriously going to consider marrying me?"_

As she closes out the cash register, tallying the money, noting the amount on a bank slip, and placing the funds in the zippered deposit bag to be left in the manager's office, Belle can feel Reimund's warm eyes upon her.

"You do that well.", he observes.

She shrugs, explaining, "I used to work at a retail store in college. I had to close out quite often. I doubt this is _exactly_ the way the manager wants it done. Everybody has their own routine, and I'm not sure if it's different for a bar, but I hope it will do."

Matter-of-factly, "It'll do. I'll make certain the manager doesn't give your friend any trouble."

She smiles broadly at him. She knows he has a gruff reputation, and perhaps his brand of 'making certain' Jefferson doesn't get into trouble will be rather…well, intimidating. She's not naïve to his tactics, yet she's never heard of him actually doing harm to someone.

Making a bit of small talk, she queries, "So Reimund Gold from Scotland?"

"Aye, my father's father was from Germany, and left in the 1930's, settling in the highlands of Scotland after meeting my grandmother there."

"I think the name suits you", as she glances uneasily out the window.

Catching a glimpse of the expression on her face, as he carries a trash bag to the door and notices that the parking lot is vacant aside from his own car.

"You didn't drive here?", he asks, having already deduced the answer.

"No, it was a lovely evening, so I walked over after Jefferson called."

Opening the door to go out to the dumpster, he says in a mildly domineering tone, "Don't think I'm letting you walk home. I'm driving you."

Her independent streak wants to argue, however she is too relieved by his offer..._well, more like edict,_ that she simply smiles shyly and nods, saying a soft, "Thank you.".

* * *

Later, as Reimund and Belle step outside and she locks up, reminding herself to stop by in the morning to drop off the keys, she shivers from the chilled night, inwardly wishing she had worn more than a light weight jacket. _"Of course, I didn't know I'd be out until nearly three in the morning."_, she thinks, deciding in the future to get the details before rushing to help Jefferson again. Strangely enough, though her body is exhausted, her mind is wide awake with the marriage question looming in the frigid air. As she turns the lock and double checks that the door handle in firmly in place, she hears a rustling behind her, which she assumes is Reimund fishing into his pockets for his keys. She is surprised to feel something warm wrap around her shoulders. She looks back at Reimund with curiosity as he adjusts his coat on her petite frame.

In an awkward manner that tells her Reimund doesn't wish her to make a big deal out of it, he coughs out, "Chivalry is not dead; it's merely been sleeping."

She quips back, as she pulls his coat closed around her, "Well, the beauty rest seems to have done it wonders."

They spend a breathless moment gazing at each other, before venturing to his car. The brief drive to the library is silent, as both contemplate what has passed between them tonight. Walking Belle to the side entrance, where the stairs lead to her apartment, they bid each other good night.

* * *

An hour later, they are each in their respective homes and beds, wide awake with a flurry of thoughts in their minds. Reimund wrestles with questions,_"What does she want?...she must want something, money perhaps? If that's what she wants, she will have it. Anything to keep Bae. But will it work? This could be a huge mistake…allowing Bae to become attached to a woman, who could decide to disappear from his life, just as his mother had. Milah only wants him now to get to me. If she gets full custody, he'll rarely see her."_

Belle's bed has never been this uncomfortable. Somehow she cannot find the right position to relax. _"It isn't an immigration issue, where we can just call it quits once enough time has passed. There's a child involved. This is, and has to be, forever. What if we just make matters worse? Am I ready to be a mother?...no, a __**step mother**__…oh, they're always depicted horribly in books. What if Bae hates me? How old is he anyway?"_

* * *

Flipping his pillow to the cool side and readjusting his position, he thinks, _"At least she didn't bite my head off when I put my coat on her. That's a start."_

He recalls a time several years ago, he had been approaching the door of an appliance store, when he heard footsteps behind him. He had been taught as a child that it was 'good manners' to hold the door open for anyone who was behind you about to enter an establishment, regardless of their gender. When he held open the door for the new comer, the woman pinned him with a fiery glare, screeching, "I am _very_ capable of opening my own door. I don't need _you_ to do it for me!" Then rolling her eyes as if she would deign to do him a favor, she stepped forward in an attempt to enter the pathway that he had cleared for her. However, before she had a chance to enter, he stepped in front of her, walked through the door, and shut it firmly in the ungrateful harpy's face, as he gave her a cold smirk through the window. She looked at him in wide eyed shock with her jaw gaping.

"_No, my Belle is not like that. __**My Belle?**__"_ He feels he is entering dangerous territory. However, he finds himself sleepily smiling, recalling Belle's warm smile after he put his coat over her shoulders, and how after she returned his coat, it smelled faintly of lilacs.

* * *

In a drowsy state, Belle marvels at the fact that she had thought the evening trapped tending bar at The Rabbit's Hole would be a never ending misery. Reimund had been, not only helpful, but attentive. He seemed attuned to her needs, whether insuring that she ate, or keeping her warm as they left. She has never felt cared for in such an intimate way. She found herself reluctant to remove his coat, once they reached her door. It made her feel safe and protected.

"_Such a silly thing to think about a coat…it's just a coat."_ she thinks, but it was _his_ coat, and it was as warm as his soulful brown eyes. She finds an odd amusement in the realization, that as she pulls her blanket tightly around herself, she is imagining that it's Reimund's coat enveloping her body.

* * *

The next morning, Belle, dressed in a sweat shirt and jeans, arrives at The Rabbit's Hole to return the keys to Jefferson, before heading for a shift at the animal shelter. She pulls her 2004 sedan into the parking lot; the vibrant electric blue color sparkling in the morning sun. She smiles seeing Jefferson with his brown, wildly wavy hair, that makes one wonder if sudden tornado swept through town only coming in contact with him. She muses smirking, _"I wonder if Doc Brown is his grandfather?"_ She observes the look in his eyes. Jefferson's blue eyes often shine with mischief, hiding his real feelings. Under what most see as his madcap personality, hides a soul battered by loss, that makes him a fierce protector of his friends.

As she gets out of the car, he calls out, "Hey, Blue Belle, see you survived the night with your virtue intact.", and then raising an eyebrow, he adds, "It _is_ still intact, right?"

Striding to him, she playfully shoves his shoulder, "The status of my virtue is none of your business, Mr. Nosy Pants."

"That's not my nose in there.", rolling his eyes, in an exaggerated Groucho Marx style, like he did that night in college, when they along with Alice, Emma and Graham watched "Duck Soup".

She still marvels that Alice accepted to Jefferson's request for a date the next night, given his bizarre antics during the movie...yet Belle knew they were a perfect match. Alice grounded him...she was the touchstone of his life. It took them a while to realize that Belle had played matchmaker from the start. She pushes down a lump of sadness that threatens to choke her throat, thinking about the loss of Alice from their lives. It's been four years, and Belle knows, despite his occasional innuendos, Jefferson hasn't really looked at another woman, since that horrible night.

With his tone growing serious, he asks, "How'd it go with Gold there? He didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"Why do you assume he gave me trouble? He was a perfect gentleman. In fact, he protected my _virtue_ quite well from the frat boys and some other shady types."

Suspiciously he asks, "In exchange for what?"

She rolls her eyes at the implication as she sighs, "Nothing. We had a nice time."

"Wait. _We? _What do you mean _we_?"

"He stayed the whole night..._at my request_. Played my bodyguard for the night, and helped me figure out drink orders", then with a snicker, she adds, "...and got groped by the soon to be bride of the bachelorette party. I wonder if Ashley will remember it."

"She did what?! No, never mind, I don't want to know.", shaking his head, clearing his throat, and then attempting his best intimidating stare, which isn't very intimidating, "We're getting side tracked here. He spent all that time with you and didn't want anything in return?"

Adamantly, she declares, "No...nothing. Is it that hard to believe?"

"Yes! This is Mr. Gold! He didn't ask you for anything or put the moves on you?", Jefferson notices a slight change in Belle's expression. "I saw that! What did he do?"

"Nothing!", she says a bit defensively, and adds, "Have you ever seen him put the moves on any woman?...has anyone in this town?"

Thinking a moment, he answers, "Well, no, but you're evading the question."

Putting her hands on his shoulders, staring intently into his eyes, she says, "Look, we just talked for a while after. He's going through a tough time, and I lent an ear."

Raising his eyebrows, Jefferson clarifies, "Just an ear?"

Folding her arms in front of her chest, she answers, "Yes...and well, I'm going over to his house later."

Incredulously, "Have you lost it?!"

With irritation evident in Belle's voice, she says, "I _resent_ that. I want to get to know him better."

"Belle, _please_ tell me you're not into him."

Keenly aware of the need for discretion with Reimund's situation, particularly while they figure out where they stand with each other, her response is noncommittal, "I...I don't know...maybe. I enjoyed his company last night. I can't remember the last time I've connected with someone like that."

Reaching out, gently squeezing her upper arms, in a tone of concern, he says, "I know you might be getting desperate at this point in your life."

Affronted by the implication, she says, "Hold it right there. I'm not _desperate_! I have a good life. My life is fulfilling with my job, my volunteering, my sometimes obnoxiously, protective friends...and the most brilliant God daughter anyone could ask for. If I never had any more in my life, I'd be perfectly happy. I don't _need_ more. It's just that...I want to know if there _is_ more...for me."

Running his fingers agitatedly through his wild mane, his brow furrows, "With Gold?"

"Maybe. How will I know, if I don't stay open to the possibility?"

Tenderly, but with a hint of condescension, Jefferson says, "Belle, _sweetie_, you don't have the greatest track record. Remember 'Fish Kisser Nolan'?"

She groans, "I'm sorry I ever told you and Graham about that...besides, it was _ten_ years ago."

With the condescension growing in his tone, he smirks, "You said being kissed by him was like being kissed by a largemouth bass, and you felt like you needed to squeegee the spit off your face when he was done...yet you kept dating him because you thought you needed to take care of him. Don't you girls say that whether or not a guy is right for you is '_in his kiss_'?"

Thinking she'd like to give him a good kick for referring to her as a '_girl_', "Oh good God, you're quoting '_The Shoop Shoop Song_'?! David Nolan was a _nice_ guy, and I wanted to see if there was anything there.", Belle defends.

"You played 'mommy' to him for way too long...besides what about Robin?"

Belle glares at him for mentioning Robin Ellis, and he looks away guiltily. Putting her hands on her hips, "Who set you up with Alice?", she asks with a twinge of guilt for bringing up a painful subject.

"Well, you...but that's different."

Gaping at him, she says, "How is that different? I helped bring Graham and Emma together too. _It's my turn! _My turn to see what or rather who might be someone important in my life. I deserve that chance...and I'm taking it."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

Pensively, she answers, "Then it doesn't work out...but at least, I'll know I tried."

"Just don't get yourself hurt Belle."

Sighing she says, "I love you to pieces for caring, but I'm a big 'girl'...actually, a full grown _woman_, and I need to decide what's right for me. Gotta go before I'm late for my shift at the shelter. See ya."

Jefferson nods as she gets into her car.

* * *

On her drive, Belle thinks about Jefferson's tiptoe down memory lane, through her ill–fated dating history, and he has struck a nerve. She was truthful with Jefferson that she is not desperate. Her life is secure and good as it is, but for all her insights about her friends' relationships, perhaps she is not the best judge of her own. Doubt starts creeping upon her like a cold mist. David Nolan, who was attractive to a lot of women, with his dirty blond hair and blue eyes, did not particularly attract Belle. Rather she felt that he needed someone..._her_ to be there for him. He had the quality of the stray animals that Belle would often adopt. So, when he asked her out to the movies, Belle said, "yes".

Over time, David became incredibly clingy, to the point that Belle felt more like his mother. However, he did seem to genuinely love her. It was David's sweet and highly insecure nature that compelled Belle to keep dating him, regardless of the lack of _any_ physical chemistry. She hoped in time that she'd grow to love him. Indeed, she did love him, as a friend, but not more. After seeing each other every day for months, often putting aside her own needs and well-being to be supportive of him, Belle had to admit to herself and to David that she didn't think she'd ever fall in love with him. Coming clean about the futility of their relationship had been one of the hardest things that she'd ever done.

Thinking about her current dilemma, Belle acknowledges, 'yes', she wants to take care of Reimund, but he had also done more than his share of care-taking her last night. _"Isn't that what people do in a real relationship? Look out for each other."_, she wonders.

She suspects that she and Reimund might have a compatible physical chemistry, though they hadn't tested the theory with so much as a kiss. She wonders if she turns out to be wrong about the chemistry, _"Can a marriage still work?...Can we simply avoid such physical contact except when necessary for having children?...Does he even want more children?"_

She would like the experience of carrying a child if possible, yet she feels that she could be happy with Reimund and Bae...if Reimund is as he appeared to be last night...and if Bae accepts her. _"Will Bae resent me, and think I'm intruding on his family? Reimund said his mother doesn't spend much time with him, but I'm sure Bae loves his mother. What if he's hoping his parents get back together?"_, she groans at the thought of how much she doesn't know, feeling like she is walking blindly into a whirlwind of complications.

Belle knows she is second guessing all her instincts, and she knows why..._Robin Ellis_. During her first year as a graduate student, she had been hired to tutor some of the undergrads in Professor Gaston Pompeuxeuse's French course. Robin Ellis was most in need of her aid. More than a foot taller than her, Robin had short wavy dark brown hair, penetrating brown eyes, and an easy smile. Belle had always prided herself on being someone who didn't get taken in my superficial good looks, however Robin had a way of making her feel like she was the most captivating woman around. Over time, she had gone from just tutoring Robin to dating him on the weekends as well. Thinking back now, she mentally kicks herself for not seeing the truth. Unlike David, Robin was an exceptionally good kisser, yet he lacked David's genuine caring for her. Though her head swam when Robin kissed her, in hindsight, she realizes there was something lacking...palpable emotion...well, except for lust. Now, she questions if the lust was even real or mere manipulation. She ended up spending much more time tutoring him then she clocked on paper.

Once Robin received a highly coveted 'A' on his final French exam, it was as though Belle had never existed. He's walk by her as though he couldn't remember her name. She later found out that he had been dating Marian Wilcox, the head of some sorority, in which Belle never had an interest. After everything Belle had done for him, saving him from the monster professor of the university, whom many assumed ate his young, to have Robin treat her so disrespectfully made her seriously doubted her ability to see a person's true self. Hence, she became much more scrutinizing regarding prospective boyfriends.

However, she isn't considering Reimund to be her boyfriend, rather her husband. The stakes are much higher...especially with a child involved. _"Can I just take a leap of faith? Will it doom us all? What if Reimund is all show...like Robin?"_ She groans in frustration and pulls her car into the animal shelter parking lot for several hours of volunteering. _"Animals are easy. They just are who they are...no pretense."_

* * *

Also that morning, Reimund Gold hears a demanding knock at his front door, and he hurries to the door. On the other side, stands Milah Gold holding their son, Bae. The statuesque beauty in her forties with long wavy deep brown hair and ice blue eyes, taps her foot impatiently. Dressed to kill, Milah's natural height is comparable to Reimund's stature, whose height is slightly below that of the average man, hence she is wearing her overpriced snakeskin 5 inch heels to create an illusion of superiority.

The moment the door opens, tossing Bae's diaper bag forward onto the floor beyond the threshold, she says snidely, "Here. Enjoy him while you have him.", hoisting the eight month old infant at Reimund.

Bae's chubby hands reach for his father as a large toothless smile spreads across is pudgy cheeks. Wide curious brown eyes sparkle, while his father strokes his already impressive mop of silky brown hair. Reimund has conflicting emotions. Seeing his beautiful boy is happy to see him, fills Reimund's heart, yet realizing that Bae has no interest in staying with his mother, Reimund feels that a son should _want_ to be with his mother...and then he thinks, _"But why would he? She's never shown him an ounce of love."_

Cradling his son's head to his shoulder, Reimund replies menacingly, "You haven't won yet...and you won't. You will _not_ take my son from me."

Bae spits and sputters, drooling out, "Pa...fpa...spa...pa", and releases an exuberant squeal, while Milah looks at the child disapprovingly thinking, _"Eight months old, and he doesn't even say 'mama' yet. I think there's something wrong with him." _

Shifting her glare back up to Reimund, with her hands on her hips, Milah says bitterly, "Oh, I have some tricks up my sleeve, Reimund. You can bet on it."

"Having tricks and _turning_ tricks...are two different things. And if you pull a stunt like the last time, I'll make sure you're living on the street, where you belong."

Giving him a venom filled smile, she hisses, "I _know_ I got to you. I could see it in your eyes..._and I still do._"

With a slight growl to his voice, he says, "Good bye, Milah!", and abruptly shuts the door.

While Bae kicks his legs and pumps his arms in his valiant attempt at saying, 'Papa', Reimund fumes that Milah is right. She _did_ get to him. She thinks she knows something...but she doesn't, however her incorrect assumption doesn't negate the pain she caused with her accusations.

He thinks ruefully, _"I never thought I'd hate the mother of my own child, but God help me, I do." _

A moment later, looking down at the joyous babe in his arms, who has begun to tug on his tie, Reimund croons warmly with a crooked smile, "Come on, my boy...let's get you breakfast."

* * *

After feeding, and changing Bae, Reimund settles him down for a nap in the nursery. Entering his own bedroom, he sits upon the antique bed, which he bought after throwing out the hideous urban contemporary designed bed that Milah had insisted on buying. Like her, the bed had no place in this house...also like her, it was cheaply made, yet quite costly. He is surprised the bed hadn't broken during her cavorting, while he worked to provide a comfortable life for her.

The previous night, he had barely slept. When he did, he initially had pleasant dreams of Belle, but then his dreams of Belle melded with images of his own troubled past which has indelibly marked his heart. He reaches for his fire safe and unlocks it, retrieving the weathered rosewood box from inside. With trembling hands, he opens the box as its hinge creaks a mournful cry. It is stacked with various documents, old letters and photographs.

He reaches for a black and white photo of three children. The photo is yellowed with the paper a bit warped from time and written on the back are the words, "_Christmas 1968_

_Reimund 7_

_Fiona 6 _

_Craig 4_". The boys are in striped shirts and the girl in a dark dress with a large white collar, piping and buttons in parallel rows of four.

He shakes his head, remembering, _"Fi hated that dress."_

The oldest child has dark hair and eyes, while the girl in the middle and the younger boy has lighter hair and eyes. Reimund smiles sadly viewing all three children, showing off the orange peel in their mouths, as though the peels were their teeth. Reimund thinks that they were lucky not to get a scolding. Instead, for the following years, it was a tradition to take one photo with that outlandish display. Even when they had decided they were too grown up to do it, the adults insisted on the orange peel smiles. Reimund remembers how comical the orange peel looked, given that, Fiona and Craig were redheads with curly hair of burnt orange and had sparkling green eyes.

He wonders why his mind fused Belle into his dreams of Fiona last night. Was it just a wicked trick of the mind...or something more? While both were bonnie lasses, Belle isn't particularly similar in appearance to Fiona, who was tall and slender, towering over several of the boys her age by the time she reached adolescence. Belle's kind heart however, does remind Reimund of Fiona.

He'd tried for so long to keep his memories of Fiona compartmentalized...locked in a box in his mind, just like the photographs and mementos in the fire safe. Nonetheless, Milah's twisted lies and accusations brought it all flooding back. All the pain threatens to drown him once again as it had decades ago, but he can't drown this time. He has Bae. He needs to create a life for Bae. His face contorts as he begins to cry, feeling his skin tingle like its tightening around his bones. He lies back on the bed, as he starts to hyperventilate from the panic attack taking hold. He can feel it coming...it's been years since the last attack, but he knows the signs.

He feels as though something heavy is pushing down on his chest, while he tries desperately to remind himself that it won't last long. _"Okay, it feels like the world is ending now, but I know it's not...I know in a little while, it'll be better. I just have to hold on."_, he mentally coaches himself. He curls into a fetal position and sobs with thoughts of regret pounding in his brain as imagines from the past flash before his mind's eye, _"If only, I'd come home sooner! Oh God, Fi, I'm so sorry!" _

* * *

A little passed noon, Belle returns to her apartment, feeling more at peace after her day with the animals. She is still uncertain regarding what to do about Reimund and the marriage question, but she's more centered and determined to not let Jefferson get into her head. She conjectures that perhaps her failed attempts at finding a life partner via traditional dating, may be even more impetus to consider marrying Reimund. Reasoning that, she often conducts her life differently than most people, perhaps this is another one of those times. Before she left the shelter, she sent a text to Reimund asking whether it would be acceptable to arrive at one o'clock, and he confirmed, texting her back. Perhaps, she should have called rather than sending a text, yet she felt if she heard his voice, her nerves might get the best of her.

Belle showers, and changes into her berry colored beret, black and white houndstooth jacket, bright blue top, black jeans and comfortable flats. Typically, she would wear a skirt for a date, but this isn't _exactly_ a date, and jeans may be more appropriate for playing with Bae, she determines. She limps slightly from the blisters on her feet, which is why she chose comfortable shoes.

* * *

Less than an hour after the panic attack faded, Reimund received a text message from Belle. Though he isn't fond of texting, in this case, it was a relief, as he still felt a bit shaken and weak from his ordeal. He didn't want Belle to hear him babble like a fool on the phone. Instead, he texted her back, cleaned himself up, changed into fresh clothes, woke Bae and fed him his snack.

Reimund knows it's too good to be true that Belle would agree to marry him. He simply doesn't have that kind of luck. Yet, he didn't want to go down in flames on the phone, thinking to himself, _"Maybe this is all hopeless and pointless, but I just have to see her one more time."_

He watches Belle pull her car into his driveway, as he stands motionless in front of the window. Belle gets out of the car and catches sight of him framed by the old Victorian window. In that moment, both Belle and Reimund try to remember to breathe.

* * *

**********************Author's Note: Time for Public Service Announcement: If someone is nice enough to open a door for you, don't yell at them. That actually happened to someone I know, and they did shut the door on the harpy. LOL! I could see it happening with Gold, because for all his gruffness, he has old world manners, yet he's not going to put up with snotty behavior. Fortunately, Belle is gracious enough to appreciate him putting his coat on her.  
**

**********************So does anybody now have the "The Shoop Shoop Song...It's in His Kiss" playing in their head?...Good ol' Jefferson sweet and condescending at the same time. **

**********************Now we know a bit about Reimund/Milah/baby-Bae, Belle, and Jefferson's pasts, as well as "Fish Kisser Nolan". Bae does not say 'mama', but he does say something else, which will be revealed. BTW, while Robin's physical features are based on the first Robin Hood, his acting like Belle didn't exist after she helped him is an allusion to the new Robin Hood of season 3 not mentioning Belle helping him...that just really bugged me on OUAT. I know you were probably hoping to read GoldenBelle's meeting, but this set up needed to happen. Unlike every other marriage deal RumBelle/GoldenBelle fic that I've read, including my own RumBelle variation, in this Belle is not a desperate soul in any way. Her choice of being with Gold and Bae isn't made out of desperation, but her own innate drive to help and her already burgeoning desire for Reimund. As you can tell from Reimund's panic attack, there will be some emotionally heavy moments in this fic. I plan to have fluff and humor intermixed with the heavy stuff to keep it balanced, but it's going to be intense at times...especially since this is based on the real world, not fairytale stuff. **P******************lease review...guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.**


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